Pushing Send (23 page)

The farm has large pens, and the outside is comprised of several fenced-in pastures. They have tons of cows, all black and white. They call them Holsteins. I am glad they are all out to pasture because I have never in my life been this close to one of them, and they are huge and very intimidating.

I follow and mimic the boys, grabbing a pitchfork just like they do. I watch them each walk into a different pen, and I walk into one near them.

Pitching cow dung is not only disgustingly smelly, but very hard work. After we pitch the poo over the side of the pen, Mr. Willow uses a skid-steer to scoop it up and put it into a wagon.

It takes forever and my body is exhausted, just like it used to be after field hockey practice.

When we return, I am sweaty, tired, and smell awful.

“Shower first”—Zach nods to me—“or you’ll get a cold one.”

After I shower and change into my pajamas, Roni asks me to read to her, and I hesitate. Reading has always been my escape. It has been something I love to do. Right now, however, I am trying not to allow myself to enjoy anything.

“
Velveteen Rabbit
.” She holds up the book. “Grams used to read it to me. Please, would ya?”

“I will.” Liza plops down beside her.

Roni crinkles her little nose. “You hate reading to me”

“No, I just don’t like re-reading the same darn book every night.” She lies down and pats the pillow next to her. “Come on, let’s get this party started.”

My body aches, and I am also exhausted. We got an hour of gym at Tryon, but none of the muscles I used today are used while playing kick ball or whatever non-contact, non-equipment using game we were allowed to play.

I quickly fall asleep listening to Liza read.

chapter seventeen

Life ?

For the next few weeks, I wake up, read the note, and miss my father and my mother. I know I will never have them again, not like before. Life is not good, not at all. This place is much better than Tryon, but it’s not home. Home died.

Day in and day out, not much changes. Every morning, I pick at grainy pancakes, then talk to Liza about whatever teen magazine she is reading—the girl is boy crazy, which is entertaining. She tells me I am her best friend, and I smile and thank her when I really want to advise her against becoming too close to me. When she shows me her crush of the day, I think of Pax and realize why they call them crushes. Devastating better describes my first crush, if that’s even what it was.

Once I can’t handle the boy talk anymore, I play dolls with Roni. I don’t know her story, but she must have had a good mother. She speaks so sweetly to the little dolls. Then I realize how much Mrs. Willow cuddles with her and fusses over her. Roni told me they couldn’t have kids, so sometimes she pretends she is theirs, even when they fight.

I play catch with Adam and Zach. Zach is getting so good, and heck, even I can throw farther now. I help Mr. Willow on the farm. I am not afraid of the cows anymore, and I actually love the calves.

At lunch, I pick at hard grilled cheese, go to the room, and then think about how terrible of a mother I would be if I ever had kids because, by this time of day, I just can’t handle being around happy people. Not to mention, I don’t want to drag them into the darkness with me, so I pretend I need a nap.

For dinner, we eat over-cooked meat and potatoes with a vegetable from Mrs. Willow’s pride and joy garden. I help with evening chores, shower, and then fall into a restless sleep.

We go to church on Sundays, all of us. I think Adam and Zach do it more for a break from the farm. Liza admittedly needs her Jesus time, and Roni loves the interaction with the kids. I mostly try to sit and not be angry.

A month after I have been here, the weekend before school begins, I get to visit Dad.

A car pulls up in front of the farmhouse, and I look out the window when I hear old Noah, the black lab, bark a few times. He doesn’t bark long, so it must tire him out. Noah makes me miss Yolo. I know times are tough when I miss a mean, old cat.

I don’t recognize the car, so I assume it’s Liza or the boys’ ride to their visits. Although we are all going on visits today, only mine is an overnight. I decide to resume pacing.

“Um, Hadley?” I look up at Liza, who is grinning. “You forget to tell me you have an older brother?”

“Stepbrother, and yeah, we aren’t real close, but—”

“Well, get close and hook me up,” she whispers. “That boy is H.O.T, hot.”

“What are you talking about?” JJ is cute, but hot?
No way
, I think to myself, but to each their own.

I walk over to the window and see the back of a guy in light, loose fitting jeans and a navy polo shirt. I recognize his hair.

“Pax?”

“Pax? Oh, wow, I like that name.” She grabs my arm and pulls me toward the door, grabs my bag, and out the door we go before I can even think about what is going on.

“There she is.” Mrs. Willow smiles. “Your friend is taking you home to your dad’s. Your dad worked overtime, so he needed some sleep, and Paxton was kind enough to come all this way to get you.”

“You better be a damn good wing girl,” Liza whispers a bit louder than I think she intended.

“Hey, Hads, you ready?”

I think he’s grown because, with how he is standing in front of me, I have to look up at him. His shoulders are broader, and his arms are more muscular, as are his shoulders.

Pax grabs my bag from Liza and then my hand. “Don’t want to be late.” He opens the door.

“Drive safe,” Mrs. Willows calls after me.

“Hook. Up,” Liza calls behind me. “Make it happen.”

I slam the door to the car behind me, feeling my face burning with embarrassment.

Pax gets in without saying a word. He turns the key, firing up the car, and quickly does a U-turn, speeding off down the driveway.

Once we hit pavement, he glances over at me, “Hey.”

“Hey.”

He smiles. “You shocked to see me?”

“Um, yes, very.”

“Your dad needed some sleep.”

“Okay, but how do you know what my dad needs and why?”

“We talk once in a while.”

“Why?” I ask again.

“My dad and Sondra moved out of town right before graduation,” he says, glancing over at me. “When I stopped by to grab some things, he was fixing the rest of the fence, and the lawn was mowed, so I asked him why. He said he doesn’t start a job he doesn’t finish, and well, I admire that.”

I don’t say any more, although I think about the fact that, even though Dad was honest, it usually takes him a long time to finish a project.

“It made me think that I hadn’t finished the job I started, so I left, went to the new place, told the folks they needed to drop the charges, that you had paid for something that wasn’t your debt to begin with. I also let them know what Steve—your dad—had done and told them all about the times I had gone to Tryon and how wrong they were.”

“You shouldn’t have.”

“How could I not?” He waits for me to say something, but when I don’t, he goes on. “They refused, and I left, went back to Blue Valley. A day later, my dad found me, and I told him what I thought: that my mother would be rolling over in her grave if she knew what he was not only allowing but pushing for. He got pissed and left. I worked with your dad to finish a project he needed finished. When I felt like I could, I returned to the new house and told my dad I wasn’t going to college if he didn’t make this bullshit go away.”

“You have to go to college, Pax,” I begin.

“I am. I already started, just home for the long weekend. Well, not home, but—” He stops. “Doesn’t matter. None of it matters. You’re out and now, dammit, you need to breathe.”

I shake my head. “Why? Why would you do that? Why do you keep telling me to breathe? Why can’t you just leave it—”

I grab onto the dash as he skids to a stop and pulls over on to the gravel shoulder of the road.

He turns toward me with an emotion almost like anger on his face. “My mother was an angel, Hadley. She was an amazing woman, kind. She was a teacher, and not just in her professional life, but every day, she taught me something that made me want to be a better person. When she got sick, she didn’t complain. When she found out she had ALS, she didn’t curl up and feel sorry for herself. When she couldn’t breathe anymore, she fought through it for me.

“She told me once that breathing was under-rated.” I close my eyes and shake my head. “Do you know who else said that same thing to me? Do you?” He hits his dashboard, and I jump. He clenches his fist and sits back in his seat. “You did. You said that. God help me, Hadley, but since that day, you have made my days brighter. And God help you because I won’t walk away until you realize you didn’t deserve this any more than she deserved ALS. I begged her to breathe, and she stopped. Please don’t do that to me.”

“I’m sorry about your mother, but I am no saint,” I say with as much sincerity as I can.

He looks straight ahead, throws the car into drive, and hits the accelerator, causing stones to fly up from under the tires of his new sports car. When I grasp on to the dash handle and the one above the passenger window, he sees me and slows down.

“Sorry, Hads, didn’t mean to scare you.”

When he pulls up to the house, I thank him, and then, as politely as I can, I ask, “Please don’t tell anyone I’m here. I need to be alone.”

He nods. I think he understands.

~*~

I haven’t seen or heard from Paxton Jamison since the day I got out of his car and walked into my dad’s house where I found him passed out on the couch. Obviously, he is having a “hard time.”

When I get here today, the day before Thanksgiving, he is sober.

“Wanna sit down for a minute?” he asks, so I sit. “Look, the home visit didn’t go well. They said the place needs some maintenance. I am gonna work on it, but—”

I look around, seeing what they are talking about. The place is disgusting. There are holes in the walls and dust on every piece of furniture, even the broken pieces of furniture.

“So I won’t be moving home?”

“Hads, I—”

“Jesus, Dad, just keep it together for a visit, could ya?”

“I am not in a place to take care of you the way you should be.”

“So is it the house or you that needs maintenance?” I ask.

He looks up at me and then away quickly.

“I’ll be in my room.”

And that is where I spend the entire four days I am here except for Thanksgiving dinner. For that, I cook a turkey breast, instant mashed potatoes, boxed stuffing, plop out a can of cranberry sauce crap, and bake a frozen pumpkin pie.

Yummy.

chapter eighteen

One month later …

After Thanksgiving, I take the bus home every week. I push Dad to help me clean up. When he doesn’t, I do it for him—no, not for him, for me.

It’s two days before Christmas when I look out the window because I hear old Noah bark twice, and pulling up the drive is my father in his old truck.

Mrs. Willow walks out with my bags in her hands, “Merry Christmas, Hadley.”

“What’s going on?”

“I’m gonna let your father tell you.” She smiles. “Come in, kids. Say goodbye to Hadley.”

“Write me, call me. I put all my info in your bag.” Liza smiles and waves.

I say goodbye to the Willows and the honorary Willows, then meet Dad on the porch with my bags in hand.

“Hello, Hads,” he says calmly, as if the last time we talked wasn’t a vicious fight when it was. I was so angry at him. I can tell he has been clean for a few days because he’s a mess.

“Hi, Dad,” I say back, copying his calm and sophisticated stature.

“Home for the holidays?”

“Yeah, sure.” I have no idea what is really going on, but I know not to get my hopes up.

No more words are spoken for the entire ride. When we pull in, I look at the ground. It will be a green Christmas, the first one without Mom. Nothing is right in the world.

He gets out of the truck, “Let’s head inside, okay?”

I push past him into the house. There are dirty dishes in the sink, boxes of crackers and cereal on the counters, and too much more to even describe. He pushes some things off to the side of the table, sits, and then gestures for me to sit in a chair across from him.

“Hads, I can’t have CPS come in right now. I am trying, though. I promise. Bee’s family offered to take you in. You know I’m a mess, but I promise I’ll get better.”